Which came first; the chicken or the egg? Why do people want to put the cart before the horse? Hi. My name is Steven and I am a morbidly obese forty year old man who suffers from Fibromyalgia. As I am writing this I am finishing a 350 calorie bag of Cheez-its and I can’t seem to stop myself. I am 6’4” tall, weigh 368 pounds and can’t seem to do a single thing to stop the path I am heading down, like trying to fall up the downward spiral.
How does the chicken/egg and cart/horse analogies have to do with morbid obesity, unhealthy eating habits and “suicide” of any type? It will make sense if you read on.
All of my doctors agree on only one thing, I need to lose weight. The best way to this is to exercise and have a healthy diet. Duh, right? Well let’s look at me and who I am to understand something about me. First and foremost, if you tell me I have to do something or that I can’t do something and I will go to all efforts to prove you wrong. One of the reasons I am morbidly obese is because I wanted to prove to everyone that I could eat as much as I wanted, what I wanted and when I wanted. I took this to the point that I have been my current weight for the last ten years, give or take 10 lbs.
I am the way I am because I spent much of my childhood being bullied, not just in school, but also in the realm of family as well. I was bullied by my step-alcoholic (father-figure) and all seven of his brothers and sisters, save one. His nieces and nephews also bullied me. I had a very strong willed woman as a mother. I was also bullied in school. After I graduated high school I really took on my own identity, which included a fuck-em all attitude. I wasn’t going to take it any longer. Admittedly, this really wasn’t the best attitude to have, especially since I joined the Navy a month after graduation. I got into some legal trouble as a result of my rebellious attitude, but seemed to never get in enough trouble to be serious.
While I was in the Navy, I gained a few pounds, 30 to be exact. I was 6’4” tall and 230 lbs and the Navy labeled me morbidly obese then. I shed enough weight to get through my four years, with an honorable discharge (don’t ask me how, because I don’t know) and I made the biggest mistake of my life, I moved back to my hometown. I could have moved anywhere in the world, but I moved back to the blue collar shithole I was raised in. I do not have any type of issue with blue collar workers, non-what-so-ever. I am blue collar at heart, but I do have an issue with the blue collar shithole I grew up in.
My life went downhill from there, two marriages, two divorces and two bankruptcies. All the time my family is telling me what I have to do, when I have to do it and why. So what did I do? The complete opposite is what I have done. At this point in my life, it isn’t a choice any more. I can’t choose to do the opposite of the opposite. Sometimes I feel like the driver a Toyota, accelerating out of control, it is no longer my choice and I am just along for the ride regardless of how hard I try.
So I have my doctors telling me I have to lose weight. Can you guess what is happening? Yup… I am packing pounds on. I have my family telling me I have to get outside more. Can you guess what is happening? Yup… I am becoming more and more of a shut in. I have programmed myself well haven’t I. To the point that I no longer have control over my own motivations.
So I tell my doctors that I would love to get out and exercise, but the pain is too much, and that is the truth and not an exaggeration. My doctors won’t give me anything for the pain other than a mild muscle relaxant. So I don’t get out and exercise and to top that off my diet consists of a lot of sugars, carbohydrates and starch, therefore I am not losing weight. Whenever I try to cut any one of those things out of my diet it is like quitting chewing tobacco. I know because I also chew. I know, disgusting… but at least I am not exposing others to cigarette smoke. I keep my carcinogens to myself. After taking some time to think about this, I believe that I have subconsciously programmed myself to commit suicide, a different kind of suicide. So with the constant pain and inability to exercise why should have decent diet? Why should quit chewing? What’s the point? That is what my brain asks me when I try to eat right. If I can’t fix it all, why fix any of it?
I have withdrawn from society, family, career and life in general. I do run a local photography club, but outside of that I don’t have friends that I go do things with, and even if I did I would probably withdraw from them over time. My family is for the most part estranged from me, to the point that my mom is probably going to move away, since I was the only reason she was hanging around.
I have lost all of my friends, outside of a one or two, and I have all but lost my relationships with all of my family. This, along with the Fibromyalgia, abuses in the past and constant failures in business, marriage and career has greatly added to my deep depression. I have suicidal thoughts all the time, I have since I was in high school. While most people and doctors do not believe that this is normal thought behavior, my only response when that say this is, “This is and has been my normal for as long as I can remember.”
I may chew, over eat and maintain a lethargic lifestyle because deep down inside I am ready to die and I am doing everything possible to make it happen as soon as possible outside of grabbing a gun, rope or a bottle of pills. But how long before that happens? I don’t know. Right now the only thing preventing me from going that route is my fear of hell. See I truly believe that the 10 commandments spell out what can and will send a person to hell. If I were to kill myself, I would not be able to ask for forgiveness of the killing, because you can’t ask for and receive forgiveness for a sin before it is committed and therefore would go to hell. I know the logic might seem a little, or a lot, off, but it the way my logic works.
I do want to get healthier. I want to be a better husband, father, employee, photographer, etc. I want to be able to do more with my photography. I want to be able do more outside of my home. I have asked for help from my doctors in helping with pain management so I could exercise more, but alas they won’t help with pain management. They want me to lose the weight and that will help with the pain. And I argue that I need to get pain controlled to be able to exercise because the pain to too much. So there we have it, they want to put the cart before the horse and I want the chicken before the egg and I want it now; instant gratification. Either way I am in a downward spiral that probably isn’t going to end well for me, my wife or my children.
So where does one go from here? For me it is doing everything wrong, because everyone is telling what I have to do. It is a different kind of suicide.
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